


In Walked Luck & You Looked In Time

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Blowjobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Captivity, Comeplay, Criminal!Flint, Domestic, Dubious Consent, Flirting, Grinding, Hand & Finger Kink, Handcuffs, Hooker!Silver, Hostage Situations, Lapdance, M/M, Masturbation, Prostitution, Stripping, Table Sex, more blowjobs, shower blowjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 11:29:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10696095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: A devastating emotional loss drives Flint to a life of crime. He has one plan in life: revenge....until the day he crosses paths with an attractive hooker and everything changes.





	1. Chapter 1

_London -_

In the early gray evening James Flint sits at the far end of the bar alone. His whiskey stands nearly finished in front of him. He has almost an hour till his appointment with Eleanor. He looks at his watch again to make sure he’s got the right time, but he knows he’s there early.

 The bar is just full enough that he’s aware peripherally of everyone in the room around him. Two old timers drinking their usual in the corner booth. A couple having a pint at a table. The boy thinks he’s getting lucky tonight. From the girl’s expression and body language (head half turned away from him, legs crossed) Flint says not. Three other men like him just having a drink alone and that’s the total of the customers currently drinking in The Golden Sands.

The girl’s attention is half caught by the man at the opposite end of the bar from Flint and Flint knows why. He saw the young man when he walked in. Attractive with a mane of tangled dark curls, tanned skin and a smile that seems somewhat out of place in an establishment like this. Flint had assessed and dismissed him in the same breath.

Yes, the young man is attractive. Yes, he has a mouth for sucking cock, but that’s the trouble. He’s clearly working, and Flint doesn’t pay for it. He has no need to pay for it, mostly because he rarely wants it. Some curly-haired rent boy is hardly going to sway him towards an evening’s indulgence. And yet when he looks up the next time, the young man is sitting at the stool next to him.

He smiles his smile at Flint this time, bright and appealing.

“You look as though you could use another drink, friend.” The man’s voice is low and charming. He knows how attractive he is, but he’s holding back until….until something. Some sign that Flint is interested perhaps.

Flint drains the last of his whiskey and sets the glass down. He has time for another and had already planned on ordering another. “What of it?”

The man shrugs. “Some men don’t like to drink alone.” His fingers rap idly on the bar as he looks around the room, revealing the curve of his perfect neck. Flint imagines his teeth grazing along the curve of that neck, sinking into it, biting into him. It would leave a mark for days.

“Some men prefer it.” Flint catches the bartender’s eye and nods at him.

“True, although no man is an island.” The man agrees. His gaze focuses on Flint. “Was that a brushoff?”

Frank indeed, direct and to the point. Flint could appreciate that. He considers it. “I didn’t hear the appeal yet.”

The man grins, leaning in slightly closer. “For a drink I will give you some enjoyable, light, entertaining conversation until you’re done.” He pauses, tongue flecking out along the lower slide of his lip. His eyes sweep over Flint from head to toe and back up. “For a little more, I will suck your cock in the alley out back there and make you come so hard, you’ll wish you had never wasted all this time beforehand.”

Flint’s smile is barely there, but there all the same. “Since when is a charming conversation a waste?” He nods to the bartender, indicating the man beside him.

The man beams at him.

“I’m buying you a drink, not having you suck my cock.” Flint clarifies.

The man shrugs. “Why don’t we start with the one and work our way to the other?”

The bartender pours them each a double.

Flint eyes the hooker next to him. Now that he’d said the words, he can’t stop thinking about it. It’s been a while. It would be satisfying on some level surely. For some reason he can picture it easily, the man’s pink lips curled around his cock, taking him deeper, his cheeks hollowed and wanton.

The man sits back, running his fingers along the rim of his drink with the tip of his finger, as he smirks at Flint. He’s wearing jeans that are dark and faded, over a leather jacket and a blousey jersey top through which Flint can see the press of a nipple. He wonders what it would feel like on his tongue.

Flint hasn’t had this urge in so long. It makes him a little heady with possibility. He could have this man and his cock in the alley. It would be an easy way to wait out the rest of his time until his appointment.

He drinks half his second whiskey while considering. ‘What happened to the charming conversation?” So far while the hooker is pretty enough, (and he is that) he’s certainly not recommending himself in any other way.

The man takes a long sip of whiskey. “Do you know in Gaelic, whisky is _uisce beatha,_ which means ‘water of life.’”

“Is that so?” As it so happens, Flint does know that, and he’s not impressed.

The man nods. “Did you also know your eyes are the color of the sea on a summer’s day, as it catches the sunlight on the waves?”

Flint snorts. “Not when I look at it…”

The man leans forward, his left hand trailing over Flint’s knee and up his thigh. “I bet they look amazing when you come.”

_“Your eyes…they go wild when you finish.” Thomas presses a kiss to his bare shoulder. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. You are the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”_

Flint blinks, his chest drawing tight. The memory is so strong for a moment he can’t think straight.

The man looks at him oddly. “Did I say something wrong?” For a moment he sounds concerned, and not solely after Flint’s money.

Flint starts to brush the man’s hand off his thigh, but instead the man catches it and draws Flint’s fingers up to his mouth.

Flint’s in shock, otherwise he would never allow this. That’s the excuse he gives and he’s sticking to it.

The man deliberately licks all the way around his middle finger all the while gazing at Flint intently. “I am sincerely sorry for anything I said that might have been amiss.” Then he sucks Flint’s finger right into his mouth past his knuckle, all the way down.

His mouth is warm, silky smooth as he draws Flint’s finger over his tongue.

Flint just looks at him, and then his other hand clasps round his whiskey to knock it back.

The man lets Flint’s finger slip free from his tongue, wet with his spit, leaving Flint to wonder what just happened. Other than the noticeable interest in his trousers.

He glances at the clock, then at his watch, and then back at the man who smiles unhurriedly at him.

The whiskey is sweet and rich as Flint regards him. He should say no. He doesn’t do this. But the memory stirs at him again and it’s been so long. Flint’s cock aches. _What the hell_.

Finally, he responds. “How much?”

The hooker grins in undisguised satisfaction as he brushes a curl back from his forehead. “How much would you guess?”

He’s flirting now and it’s meant to be charming and appreciated, and on some level maybe it is, but Flint’s just not the kind of man to be charmed by a hooker in a pair of worn jeans, with pretty hair.

“Two pounds?” He says idly, catching the barman’s eye again. He needs another drink.

“You are joking.” The man’s mouth falls open slightly. “ _Are_ you joking?”

Flint eyes him critically. “Two pounds for the mouth, ten for the ass.”

“You’re fucking joking.” The man half shoves off the stool in indignation.

Flint chuckles in spite of himself. “Think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“You would too, if you had my mouth.” The man retorts.

“It’s not what you have, it’s how you use it.” Flint tells him pointedly.

The man leans forward. “Fifty pounds or you can just get off on your own.” He starts to slide off his stool and now Flint’s truly curious, or maybe he’s just horny.

Either way he touches the man’s sleeve. “Hang on a sec.” He downs his third whiskey, lets it settle into a nice warm glow in his gut. “Fifty pounds then and show me what you’re made of.”

“Oh, you bet.” The man practically bounces off the stool he’d been sitting on.

He walks ahead of Flint with a swagger designed to show off his perfectly sculpted ass, and it does the trick all right. Flint can’t keep his eyes off it, imaging the feel of those svelte cheeks under his hands. Fifty for his mouth, how much for a chance to fuck him? Flint can’t help wondering.

He steps out into the alley and for a second, the night air hits him and the whiskey washes over him like the sea. He looks up at the sky. It’s dark and far away and there’s loneliness at the corners of his heart, a loneliness that he never lets himself acknowledge.

The man backs up against the alley wall, grinning at him. “Come here then.”

Flint leans in, bracing one hand on the bricks as the man goes to his knees, reaching for his zipper. He gazes down at the man’s hair and thinks about touching it. The hooker’s breath is warm over his breeches. He presses his mouth to the front of Flint’s briefs. Flint’s hand drifts downward, just barely over the man’s curls.

There’s a sound behind him and Flint’s aware of two things, at once the way the man’s attention darts around his leg, clearly on the watch for something, and the fact that the sound behind him is someone with a knife.

He wrenches himself one way, shoving the hooker in the other direction hard.

“Hey!”

Flint whirls and catches his attacker by the hand just as he springs at Flint. He twists hard, breaking the man’s wrist with a ferocious snap. The man howls and falls to the ground.

There’s a second assailant, who’s more careful but still coming.  Flint avoids a punch and takes him out, smacking the man’s head repeatedly against the bricks until he’s out. Flint turns back to the man with the broken wrist who’s still moaning.

Flint bends down to grab him by the collar. “Who sent you?”

The man spits at him and grabs for the knife Flint still has in his hand. Flint drops him to the cobblestones and he hits his head, knocked out cold.

Flint wipes some blood off his cheek and turns, catching sight of the one who started this whole mess. That little shit of a hooker has started crawling away down the alley, but it’s a dead end and when he realizes that, he turns quickly around. His eyes dart past Flint to the other end, to freedom.

Flint advances on him, the knife in his hand.

“I didn’t know what they had planned.” The hooker protests. “They just said they wanted me to get you in the alley to talk. That’s all, I swear to god.” He holds his hands up to create more space between him and Flint. “Honest.”

Flint just grabs him by the jacket, slamming him up against the bricks. The hooker groans, but he could care less. The knife is slick in his grasp, it would be easy to slit his throat, one flick and he would be done with everyone in this alley who’d seen the incident.

“Please, don’t kill me, I didn’t know, please.” The hooker babbles. He smells like whiskey and sugar, and some cheap cologne, but somewhere in there, Flint’s dimly aware of another thing. The hooker’s hard against his thigh, in spite of the knife against his throat, or maybe because of it.

“I’m begging you, don’t kill me.” The man looks Flint dead in the eye, pleading.

Flint presses the knife closer. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t cut your throat right now?” He can taste it, smell the blood in his nostrils, taste it on his tongue. It would be so easy.

“Please.” The hooker whispers.

And for a second, Flint hesitates. The hooker could be telling the truth. How can he say for sure? But if Flint kills him, that’ll definitely take care of the matter regardless of whether or not he’s telling the truth.

There’s a noise at the other end of the alley and Flint jerks his head around. There’s nothing but a cat jumping down from a stack of boxes. The hooker takes this opportunity to jerk free, dodging under his arm and runs for the mouth of the alley.

Flint grips the knife. He could throw it. He could get him in the leg, or in the back of the neck.

He keeps the knife, waiting until the running figure is out of sight before he wipes the blood from his face.

He pushes his sleeve back and notices there’s a blank space on his wrist. Flint stares at it and realizes. That fucking hooker stole his watch.

He searches the two men quickly, phones and wallets, nothing of import, nothing that tells him what he needs to know, who sent them. He pockets the phones and tosses the wallets in a bin before he heads out.

It has to be Vane. He gets out his phone and makes a call as he heads down the alley.

 *  *  *

“Jesus, Captain, what happened to you?” Billy stares at him when he finally walks back into their headquarters.

“I got jumped.” Flint says curtly. “Two thugs tried to knife me behind the Sands, while I was waiting for Eleanor. I had to postpone the meeting.”

“Do we need to take care of it?”

“Eleanor handled it.” Flint’s got a headache. He wants to be alone and take a shower and not think about this mess of a night.

Billy’s brow furrows. “Did you get anything out of them?”

“No, but I want you to look for someone who knows something. Put the word out. There’s a reward of a hundred pounds for him.”

“Who?”

“Didn’t get his name.” He rattles off a description, keeping it short and sweet but descriptive.

“A hooker?” Billy raises an eyebrow.

Flint just levels a stare and he goes without another word.

 *  *  *

Flint goes up the stairs to his office above the warehouse where they run their operations. He has an apartment up there behind his office; it’s all the home he has now. He likes to stay close to the business.

He locks the door behind him before making his way over to his desk. He sinks into his chair and leans his head back. There’s still dried blood on his face, and distantly the ache of unfinished business in his cock. The phantom feel of the hooker’s mouth on his fingers makes his fist clench.

He’s going to find that little shit and when he does, he’s going to get everything he knows out of him, by whatever means necessary, and then when Flint’s finished with him, he’ll slit his throat and leave him in the river to be washed far out to sea.

 *  *  *

It takes almost an entire week. Because of no name, because of how Flint doesn’t want the knowledge of what happened in the alley getting around. Because he trusts Billy to deal with it personally, and Billy has a lot of responsibilities at the moment due to Gates making him his right hand man in the organization.

But finally late one night, Flint’s in his office and there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Billy pushes the door open. “Captain?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

Billy smiles. “We got him.”

 *  *  *

Billy leads him to one of the back rooms off the main floor. He opens the door and Flint walks in. In the middle of the room is a hooded figure tied to a chair. He’s wearing the same pair of jeans, same jacket, same shirt. He’s trying to remain calm, but his pulse is a little too fast and gives him away.

Flint walks over to stand in front of him and reaches down to pull off the hood.

The hooker blinks at the sudden light and stares up at him. As he recognizes Flint, his eyes widen with panic.

“Shit.”

Flint just smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

The infuriating thing about the whole shitty mess is that Silver would have actually _liked_ to suck the man’s cock. Usually you do these jobs because you have to, not out of any sense of enjoyment, not by a long shot. But every once in a while you get lucky, and in this instance, Silver had definitely thought he'd gotten lucky.

When he had been shown the picture of Flint, ( _this is the one we’re looking for, just get him in the alley_ ), Silver had thought, ‘That’ll be an absolute pleasure.’ Flint is tall, with wavy auburn hair and a face creased with severe lines and a deep furrowed brow, at least in the photograph. Silver had had a personal bet with himself that he could get the man to smile.

At least he’s won that, if not precisely how he had wanted to.

He shifts in the chair, licking his lips nervously. His lips are one of his best features (or so he’s been told, rather his whole mouth in general) so drawing attention to them might help. Maybe it’ll remind Flint what was going to happen in that alley before they were interrupted by the men who had tried to kill him.

From the first moment he had seen Flint in the bar (double-checking to make sure it’s the right man from the pic, he doesn’t have to, but they’ll ask) Silver had wanted him. Several days of stubble cover Flint’s jaw, and his arms, Christ, his arms. Flint had them resting on the bar, well-muscled in his suit coat sleeves, the cuffs revealing freckled, tan skin at his wrists, ripe for kissing. What would it be like to be held down by those arms, to have that scruff grazing his thighs?

At first he had thought Flint was actually going to refuse and Silver hadn’t wanted that, no. First, he needed the money, damn it. And two, it was a matter of pride really. You didn’t turn down getting your cock sucked by John fucking Silver, you just didn’t.

But now the whole thing is really not going his way at all.

He pulls again at his bound wrists, swallowing nervously. “Whatever those men were intending to do to you in that alley, please believe me when I say I had no part in it.”

Flint raises an eyebrow.

“Apart from getting you out in the alley to begin with.” Silver amends hastily. “But that’s all.”

“What did they tell you?” The tall blonde man who had grabbed him in the pub earlier speaks up.

“They said they wanted to talk to him and they would pay me a hundred pounds to get him out to the alley, by any means necessary.”

Silver keeps his gaze fixed on Flint who still hasn’t spoken. There had been something between them in that bar, something that could very well be the only thing that keeps Silver alive right now. All he has to do is keep Flint’s attention fixed solely on him.

“Who hired you?” The blonde asks.

“The men you stabbed in that alley.” Silver directs his answer to Flint.

The blonde smacks him in the side of the head. “I’m talking to you, asshole.”

Silver shakes his head and looks up at him through his curls. “I’m sorry, are you the boss here?’

The blonde jerks his head back hard by the hair, making Silver yelp. “You fucking do what I say, you little piece of shit and answer the fucking question!”

“I was hired by the men he stabbed in the alley.” Silver says breathlessly.

“Billy.” Flint says in a low tone.

The blonde releases him reluctantly.

Silver coughs and tries to straighten up. “Was that really necessary?”

“Shut up.” Flint directs at him. He turns to Billy with a sideways look. “All right, get to work.”

Billy draws out a lethal looking knife, and no no, no, no, this is not what Silver wants.

Billy jerks his head back again, holding a knife to his throat. For a moment Silver can’t even think beyond _Christ, I do not want to die like this, I can’t die yet, I’ve only been to Paris once, I’ve never been in love, I’m never going to be in love, I don’t want to fucking die, damnit._

“Please,” Silver pleads. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I’ve got no reason to lie and loads of self-preservation. Just _ask_ me before you do anything to me, please.”

Flint just cocks his head at him. “Cowardly little shit, aren’t you?”

“Absofuckinglutely.” Silver says. “I’m alive.”

“For now.” Flint turns away as there’s a buzz on his phone. “Yeah? Mmm. Eleven.” He checks the watch on his wrist, not the one Silver lifted, mind you but another one.

Silver still has the watch as a matter of fact. Hasn’t had time to get to a fence. He wonders if that will help or hinder his case. Flint hasn’t mentioned it, which makes Silver wonder about it. There had been an engraved message on the back of the watch. _To J.M. from T.H xx._

Flint turns back. He has a meeting to get to, but he really doesn’t want to walk into something without an idea of what happened. It has to be Vane who sent the men, but he’s not a hundred percent sure.

He stalks over to the hooker and moves in close, standing between his spread thighs. “I’m going to ask you this exactly once and I want a straight answer. Did Charles Vane hire you?”

Silver looks him directly in the eyes. “I’ve never heard of Charles Vane.”

Flint looks down at him. “Really?”

“Believe me, all I want out of this is to survive. If there’s anything I can tell you, I will gladly do so, but all I know is that I was hired by those two men, to get you out in the alley. That’s all.” His eyes burn bright as mercury. “I will do anything to make you understand I'm telling the truth, and I do hope you realize, you are seriously underestimating my cocksucking skills.”

“Is that right?” Flint hasn’t forgotten that moment in the alley, when Silver touched him, or the moment where he was hard against Flint’s thigh in spite of the knife at his throat. He also hasn’t forgotten that Silver stole his watch. He hasn't forgotten a lot of things.

Silver nods fervently.

“Anything you say.” Flint says speculatively. Even if he is telling the truth about not knowing Vane, which Flint’s still not completely convinced of, he knows the man’s hiding something, something that’s useful, and it will take delicate work, more than mere violence to get it out. Flint has no patience for the delicate right now. He would just as soon slit his throat now and be done with it. At the same time, there’s something about the hooker that stays his hand.

“Anything.” Silver repeats, his eyes bright with the urge to survive.

Flint needs more time and he doesn’t have it right now. He has postponed meetings and scheduling regarding shipments. He can’t deal with this, but at the same time it’s the only thing he _can_ deal with because he needs to know who’s trying to kill him this time.

He gestures Billy over to the door.

“What did you find on him?”

“Phone.” Billy takes it out of his pocket. “It’s locked.” He hands it over to Flint. “Nothing else.”

“Nothing?” Flint had told himself that the hooker would probably toss the watch or sell it, but if he’s actually done that, his hand curls into a fist.

Billy shakes his head.

Flint holds the phone up. “Code?”

Silver swallows, his eyes dart back and forth between both of them. At last he mutters “2484.”

Flint taps it in and scrolls through his texts. It’s mostly sent and received ones from someone named Max, confirming times and locations. He doesn’t look up from the phone. “Who’s Max?”

Silver doesn’t answer straight off.

“Your pimp?” Billy nudges his shoulder as he circles him. “Your boyfriend?”                         

At that Flint throws him a skeptical look.

“Well, some people have boyfriends.” Billy mutters.

“I’m aware of that.”

“Max is neither my pimp or my boyfriend. _She’s_ a friend.” Silver glances at Billy. “And my last boyfriend was named Alex, and he was a bit of a dick.”

“Nobody asked. “ Billy snarls.

Silver shrugs and looks back to Flint who’s still going through his phone.

There’s one dick pic that Silver has forwarded to Max with the caption‘ _he fucking thinks this is gonna get him laid_?’ He looks up at Silver over that.

"What?" Silver says sulkily. 

Flint just shakes his head. Finally there is one message of interest. The name of the bar where they met, a photo of Flint himself and a time, sent from someone named H.

“Who’s H?”

“He’s the one whose wrist you broke, I believe.”

Flint studies the photo of himself, trying to remember where it was taken, who would have been there that day. He scrolls through the rest of the photos. There’s a lot of selfies, mostly half-nudes, Silver's torso from various angles. He raises an eyebrow.

“Those are personal.” Silver protests, guessing what he's looking at.

“For anyone in particular?” Flint inquires. “Or just for clients?”

“Sometimes they like to see what they’re getting.” Silver retorts.

Flint pauses at one photo where Silver has his shirt pulled up over his chest and is pinching his own nipple while making eyes at the camera. It’s absurd what some people go for. Flint puts the phone in his pocket, noting the look of disappointment in Silver’s eyes.

He turns back to Silver. Flint comes over and crouches in front of him, resting his hands on Silver’s thighs. “Next question. Where’s my watch?”

“What’s it to you?” Silver says boldly.

Flint stares at him. “Do you really think this is the moment to negotiate?”

Silver hesitates.

Flint leans in, his hands pressing harder on Silver’s thighs. “If you want to keep your balls intact, now is the time to speak up.”

Silver gulps. “In my jacket.”

“I searched him!” Billy exclaims.

“There’s an inner pocket in the lining.” Silver says.

Flint leans in and runs a hand over the inside of the jacket. He finds the pocket; it’s neatly made. There’s a wallet and his watch inside it. He tosses the wallet to Billy and puts the watch in his pocket, breathing a faint sigh of relief.

“Little fucker.” Billy mutters, thumbing through the wallet.

“Anything interesting?”

“No.” Billy shoves the wallet in his pocket, still glaring at Silver. “Alright, captain, what do you want done with him?”

Flint sighs, rubbing at his temples. He ignores the pitiful look Silver’s giving him and draws Billy over to the door to speak to him in a low tone. “Keep questioning him, but I want him mostly intact. I want to know everything. Where he’s living, who he’s sleeping with in his non-work hours, any particular clients that might be useful. Probably not but you never know. Who hired him, how he was told about the job, what he was told. He’s hiding something and I want to know what it is. Not a mark on him, understand?”

“You got it, captain.”

Flint heads for the door.

“Please.”

He turns back to see Silver gazing desperately at him. “I told you the truth.”

“Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t.” Flint shrugs. “At any rate, you’ll have a nice long chat with Billy in the meantime.”

He leaves the room as the hooker opens his mouth to protest again.

 *  *  *

Silver takes a deep breath and smiles as Billy advances on him. “I don’t suppose I could interest you in anything else?” Billy’s not unattractive and Silver’s fairly sure he hasn’t been laid in a good long while. Surely that has to have some appeal for the man? 

“Such as?” Billy’s removing his jacket and flexing his muscles in the manner of one warming up for a long night’s work.

“I told your captain I’d do anything.” Silver lets the note of desperation linger in his voice. “I meant that.”

“So why don’t you just tell me what I want I know?”

Silver licks his lips and looks hopeful. “Because I already have?”

Billy just sighs and gets to work.

 *  *  *

Flint meets with Vane in a neutral location with two seconds who watch the doors carefully to make sure there’s no double-crossing. There’s two more in the alley. He’s not taking any chances though he’s still not entirely convinced it’s Vane. Something feels off about the whole thing. It would be too easy if it were Vane.

“I thought this meeting was in good faith.” Vane nods at the men. “Why the extra muscle?"

“It’s hard to meet in good faith, when you sent thugs to knife me in an alley.”

Vane looks at him coolly. “That’s hardly my style. When I kill a man, I do it to his face.”

Flint doesn’t believe him, but at the same time, he doesn’t disbelieve him either. Vane isn’t capable of that straight-up deceit. So who was it?

Billy comes in during the latter half of the meeting. Flint pauses the discussion to take him aside for a report.

 “How’s it going?” He can feel Vane watching him.

“Fine.” Billy shrugs. “He wasn’t lying when he said he’d said anything.”

“Such as?”

“No pimp, he works with his partner Max, out of North Street. He’s not affiliated with any gang. Been in the business since he was eighteen. No steady clients, no current non-work partners. He’s either completely stupid or incredibly clever.”

“How so?”

Billy shrugs again. “He literally just keeps saying that all he knows is that he was hired by the two men who said that they wanted to talk to you privately. He comes off as dumb enough to make that believable, but it could be an act. Are you sure you don’t want me to just beat it out of him?”

“Not just yet.” Flint muses on this. “Tell you what, put a hood on him, drive him around for a couple blocks and then bring him back. Just leave him in the boot.” He wants Silver on edge, it’ll make him more likely to give up what he knows.

“Right.” Billy nods.

Flint turns back to the table.

Vane’s still watching him. “Something you want to say?”

Flint shrugs. “Just that whoever hired those men created a mess for Ms Guthrie to clean up.” His eyes narrow. “And we both know how much Eleanor hates messes, don’t we?”

Vane scowls, but leaves without a threat of follow-up violence, so Flint considers it a win.

 *  *  *

Flint drives back to their HQ on Canary Wharf in silence. He goes up to his office, but he can't settle on working on anything. 

At last Billy comes in and Flint gestures him over. “We’re all set for now, but I need a final run-through on the men we’re going to take with us day-of. And I want assurances that we have backup in place in case Vane is planning on double-crossing us.”

“You got it, captain.”

“Is he still in the boot?” Flint asks finally.

“Yeah.” Billy says. “Want me to get him?”

“I’ll do it.” He needs something to take his mind off everything. It’s late. He’s done for the night. It's after midnight. 

He goes down to the garage and over to the car Billy was driving. The stink is apparent the moment he opens the trunk.

Silver’s curled up on his side, the hood over his head, wrists bound behind him. There’s a damp stain down the front of his jeans. He flinches as Flint pushes the trunk door open higher.

Flint’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “You pissed yourself in my trunk.”

“You put me in your trunk with a hood over my head." Silver's voice is muffled through the hood, but still indignant. "I thought you were going to kill me!”

Flint jerks the piss-covered figure upright and out of the trunk. “I still might.”

“This way.” He nudges Silver ahead of him, still annoyed with the smell. Silver stumbles but manages to walk up the stairs to his personal office.

He takes Silver through the office and into his private apartment. Only then does he pull the hood off. There’s fear in Silver’s eyes so Flint figures he’s getting through at least.

“In there.” He directs Silver towards the bathroom down the hall. “Shower.”

Silver holds up his bound wrists.

Flint sighs but unties them. His hands hold Silver by the wrists for a moment and he feels a flicker of something chasing down his bones. Something ghostly and confusing, but there nonetheless. That flicker is why the hooker is still alive. The elusive feeling Flint can’t put his finger on.

He unties him brusquely. “Get in there and wash the piss off you.”

Embarrassment, anger, humiliation, all of these chase each other across Silver’s face. But somehow he manages to still come up with, “Sure you don’t want to do it?”

Flint stares at him until Silver just goes, tail between his legs like a kicked puppy.

Flint heads to his liquor cabinet. There’s no window in the bathroom and to get out the front door, the hooker would have to go past him. He's not getting out.

He pours himself a whiskey and checks the phone again. There are three new texts from Max.

_Where the fuck are you_

_this isn’t funny_ ,

_are you okay?_

Flint looks at them for a long moment and then puts it back.

With a sigh, he sinks into his chair and closes his eyes.

That’s no good. Whenever he closes his eyes these days, he sees the Urca.

He’s been studying the Urca Bank ever since he got into this. Its security system is so intricate it changes programs every three months. There have been four attempts to break into it since it was announced as the most secure bank in the world, and every single one of those attempts failed.

But this time Flint finally has the plans, he has an in, but he needs to be able to trust Vane and he doesn’t have time for this mess. He can't be looking over his back every moment. He has a week to make sure the hooker doesn’t know anything else. The bank changes security in two weeks, they’ll do the job and then he’ll be done.

It’s a risk admittedly. He usually keeps their business to smuggling, but with that amount of money from the Urca he can retire and set up a charity for the people Thomas was intent on helping, the people he wanted to defend, the people he died protecting.

Flint rises to go stand at the door of his office and looks out over the warehouse floor from his balcony. Billy glances up at him and Flint gives him a nod.

He’s done things he’s not proud of, some days he regrets them. Some days he has no time for regrets. This is one of those days.

He only sees Miranda once a month. It’s not safe to see her more. If someone figured out he had ties to her, they would use her as leverage. Flint knows she’s lonely, he’s lonely too, but it’s safer this way. He can’t take the risk.

What he doesn’t need on top of everything else is a hooker who won’t cooperate. Maybe he should have Billy beat it out of him after all. But when Flint thinks on that, he can’t help remembering the way Silver looked at him in that alley.

He swallows the last of his whiskey and goes to pour another.

 *  *  *

There’s no window so he can’t get out. Silver checks the medicine cabinet out of habit, nothing particularly useful this time, and finally strips off his shirt and jeans to shower.

He’s angry at the way he’s been treated, angry and scared shitless, hence the pissing himself, but he forces the anger deep down inside him. There’s nothing to be gained by being angry. He has no advantage there, and he needs every advantage he can get.

When he emerges from the bathroom, he has a fluffy white towel wrapped around his hips and nothing else. He left his clothes on the bathroom floor.

Flint is drinking in the kitchen doorway. He casts a glance over Silver’s form and his gaze lingers on his bare torso, the way the towel rests loosely on his hips. Silver knows he’s attractive, knows too that Flint is attracted to him. He stands still, just letting him look.

“Come here.”

Silver obeys.

“What’s your name?” Flint asks roughly.

“Silver.” He says. “John Silver.”

Flint clasps a hand around his neck. “I’m going to give you exactly one shot to make good on that promise about your mouth.” He waits and Silver just goes to his knees.

He reaches for Flint's zipper and Flint lets him. Silver draws him out, stroking him lightly with hand. 

Silver flicks a glance upwards, his blue eyes are so bright like the seashore against a dazzling white beach, and Flint’s struck by them. He clasps the back of Silver’s head before he realizes he’s even doing it and Silver’s eyes darken, heady and needy. He ducks his head lower and takes him all the way down to the base of his cock.

Flint grips harder trying to steady himself, but Silver merely bobs his head sucking more heatedly. His mouth is wet and warm, moving steadily. He slides off Flint’s cock until just the head is still inside his mouth, licking all the way around it, sucking on the slit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue.

Flint digs his fingers harder into his hair but Silver just goes down on him again, mouthing wetly at his cock, pulling off until Flint wants to thrust hard and sloppy back into his mouth. Somehow he holds back. Silver keeps going. He slides off Flint’s shaft with a low slick moan and then he licks around the head again, the side of his tongue wrapping seductively around Flint’s shaft, all teasing pressure and urging motion and Flint knows what Silver is doing but all the same time he’s enjoying it. He doesn’t want to, but he is.

Silver draws his mouth slowly all the way off and glances up. “You _are_ enjoying this right? I’d hate to think my efforts are being wasted here.”

“Shut up and keep sucking my cock.” Flint growls. He’s close but Silver just keeps teasing, tantalizing him, leaving him hanging.

He stares down at Silver with quizzical eyes. And Silver just swallows him whole again, bobbing his head all the way down in one long throaty motion, sheathing Flint in the glorious heat of his throat. Flint sucks in a sharp breath as Silver sucks his cock.  His mouth is so warm, so encompassing and teasing. He looks down at the curly-haired head in front of him.

_John Silver, what a name._

His fingers curl through Silver’s hair, tugging gently this time and then he practically drags Silver off, letting his grip lessen so Silver’s just kneeling there with Flint’s dripping cock right in front of his lips.

Silver’s practically desperate to take him down again, practically humping Flint’s leg. He licks his lips, just straining towards Flint's dick, and then finally Flint slips between his lips once more,

Silver groans, taking him deeper and deeper, until Flint feels lost at sea in the velvet heat of Silver’s mouth. Silver’s hand slides down Flint’s cock, to brush over his balls, caressing them and Flint grips his hair tighter again as he comes down Silver’s throat.

Silver draws off Flint’s cock and licks his lips expectantly.

Flint feels slightly lightheaded. Silver wasn’t kidding when he said he was good at sucking cock. He runs a hand through his hair and steps back. It takes a moment for him to refocus and remmeber where he is. 

Silver sits back on his ankles and wipes his mouth before getting to his feet.

“Well?” Silver says at last.

“Well, what?” Flint needs another drink. He gets a bottle out of the cupboard and pours himself a slightly larger whiskey this time. His skin's tingling. He wants to fuck Silver. The want has settled in deep in his body, like an ache he can't rid himself of. Five minutes or so and he’ll be ready to do just that. He takes a seat at the kitchen table and looks at Silver.

Silver’s hard too, the thick curve of his cock pressed against the towel.

“Well, are you going to let me go or not?” Silver’s tone is light, but he wants to know, the question burning in his eyes.

Flint takes a sip of whiskey, letting it warm him. “I’ll let you go after I fuck you.”

Silver raises his eyebrows and then grins. “All right.” He looks around the kitchen as though considering the possibilities. “Where do you want me?”

Flint tilts his head towards the hall. “Bedroom.” He lets Silver walk in front of him, taking the whiskey with him as he watches the easy sway of Silver’s hips.

Silver stops and looks at him, waiting. Flint sets the bottle on the floor next to the chair that he sinks into. He's suddenly exhausted with everything. He just wants to sit here and look at Silver.

“Take the towel off.”

Silver lets it drop to the floor.

Flint exhales shakily. Fuck, he shouldn’t be that beautiful, but he is. Every inch of Silver is breathtaking from his slim hips, to the mesmerizing slope of his back leading down to his ass. The curls falling free over his face as he watches Flint.

“Get on the bed.” 

Silver stretches out on his back, watching him with hungry eyes. His cock's hard, there's no hiding that without the towel. Flint can't stop staring at it, thinking of how it would taste on his tongue. 

Flint reaches over to open a drawer. He takes out a tube of lube and tosses it at Silver who catches it in one hand. “Prep yourself.” He sits back, cradling his whiskey in his hands.

Silver grins. He pours some lube over his fingers and spreads his legs, giving Flint a good view.

Flint drinks his whiskey as Silver eases a finger inside himself.

Silver exhales, relaxing his body, working himself open. His lips part slightly as his finger moves in and out of himself in a slow practiced rhythm. 

 Flint drains his whiskey and stands. He can’t wait any longer. 

Silver watches him, hand moving between his legs as Flint undresses quickly.

Flint settles on the bed between Silver’s thighs and presses the head of his cock to his hole, rubbing the head against him. "You ready?"

"Yes, ahhh, yes," Silver bites his lip as Flint thrusts into him. “More.”

Just one word but it propels Flint into motion. He pulls Silver closer, fucking him harder.

Silver gets his legs over Flint’s hips, hands sliding down to grip Flint’s ass as Flint leans down to bite at a nipple. Silver whines and it’s such an annoying, unashamed little sound that it goes straight to Flint’s cock.

Flint growls and pulls out, pulling Silver up and around on his knees in front of him so they’re kneeling upright in bed. He sinks his teeth into Silver’s neck as he wraps a hand around his cock. Silver tastes sweet and salty all at once as he twists his head to catch at Flint’s mouth. Then they’re kissing greedily as Flint fucks into him, nearly bottoming out every time, but holding back just enough until Silver makes that whining noise again low in his throat, desperate and needy.

Flint sucks on his tongue and runs his fist along Silver's shaft.

“Fuck your cock in my fist.” He whispers.

Silver starts moving dazedly, clearly nearly too sensitive to do this for long. His whole body shudders as he approaches the edge of the precipice and then is drawn helplessly over the edge by Flint’s touch. He spurts over Flint’s clenched fist, dick sliding hot and sloppy in the slick. His body clenches hotly around Flint who buries his groan in the curve of Silver’s shoulder as he comes.

There will be marks left tomorrow. He knows that already. 

Flint catches his breath and starts to ease out of him but Silver turns his head again, catching his lower lip for another kiss. His tongue licks its way inside Flint’s mouth, seeking more and Flint finds his fingers tangling in Silver’s hair, still pressed hot and tight inside of him, in spite of the fact that they’ve both just come.

Finally Silver releases his mouth and lets his head fall against Flint’s shoulder with a gasp. The motion sends a dizzying rush of unexpected want through Flint and it’s so unexpected, he eases out of Silver a little rougher than necessary.

Silver makes a murmur of complaint as he sinks down on the bed but Flint ignores him.

He gazes down at the dark-haired prone figure on his bed gazing lazily up at him. He wants to sink back into him immediately and make Silver beg for everything all over again. This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

Flint swings off the bed and walks nude over to grab the whiskey. He has a short window to decide what he wants to do here so he pours himself another, buying himself time.

“Been a while, eh?”

Flint’s head jerks up. “What?”

Silver rolls over on his stomach to gaze at him. “Just seemed like you needed that is all.” His gaze travels over Flint’s body, clearly still interested in what he sees. His eyes settle between Flint’s thighs.

“That’s no concern of yours.” Flint slings back the whiskey back, letting it burn his throat.

“That’s a yes then.” Silver murmurs.

Flint turns back to the bed. Somewhere around there he’s decided what he’s going to do.

“So…” Silver says finally.

Flint doesn’t move, still just looking at him.

“So I can go now, right?” Silver asks.

“What makes you say that?”

“You said you’d let me go after you fucked me.” Silver looks up at him belligerently.

“I did.” Flint nods. “But I never specified when precisely.” He leans down and takes Silver by the arm, tugging him off the bed. “Come on.”

“What the fuck are you’re doing?” Silver struggles but Flint’s fingers dig into his shoulder and he subsides.

“I’m going to keep you.” Flint says, leading him into the bathroom.

“What?”

“For a week at least.” He leans in, watching Silver’s face intently. “I’m going to keep you here and fuck you when I please. And when I’m satisfied,” he lets the word settle low and heatedly between them. “That you’ve told me everything of any possible value to me, then, and only then, I’ll let you go.”

“That’s…” Silver stares at him incredulously. “You can’t just keep me here.”

“Can’t I?” Flint says. He nods at the shower. “Get in and sit down."

Silver does, just staring at him.

Flint goes back to his bedroom. In the closet, in a drawer he finds what he’s looking for and brings the cuffs back to the bathroom.

Silver’s eyes widen at the sight.

“You’re just leaving me in the fucking shower?” Silver stares at him while Flint fastens one of the cuffs to the rack on the side of the shower wall. He can’t fucking believe this. “All night? Naked?”

“You’ve already proved you can’t keep from pissing yourself. So if you need to piss, go ahead. This way there won’t be any mess to clean up.”

“That's not fair.” Silver protests. “That wasn’t my fault.”

Flint eyes him and then looks around the bathroom looking for something he can't find. At last he goes out and then comes back with a tie.

Silver presses his back up against the wall. “What’re you going to do with that?”

“Gag.” Flint holds it up.

“No, please.” Silver says hurriedly. “Look, do I really seem like that much of an idiot to you?”

“You tell me.”

“You have guards posted outside of here, I presume. I’m not stupid. I don’t want to die. I thought I’d made myself clear on that accord.”

Flint smiles inwardly. “True, I just wanted you to understand the potential consequences if you make any noise.”

“Understood.” Silver mutters.

He draws his knees up and just looks at Flint, without any kind of embarrassment or self-consciousness. Flint lets his gaze travel over his body like he knows Silver expects him to. His cock is still against his thigh. His free left hand rests on his knee, as he looks up at Flint.

“You'll have all night to think about what you’re going to say tomorrow.”

“About what precisely?” Silver sounds indignant and frustrated with the whole situation.

“Anything you think might be useful.” Flint goes out. He closes the bathroom door and goes to his room.

The whole bedroom smells like sex, like Silver. Flint stretches out on the bed and waits for sleep.

Technically he could have just had Billy keep working on him but there’s something about the way Silver said he would offer up anything whatsoever under duress that makes Flint believe him. And he wants to see what Silver comes up with after being left to his own devices tomorrow.

He closes his eyes and sleeps.

 


	3. Chapter 3

All night. So Flint’s really just gonna leave him there all night. At first Silver can hardly believe it, but as the first hour slowly drags on and he’s left just sitting there in the dark, he has to accept it’s actually happening.

He leans his head back against the wall. In spite of what happened after, the fact that he’s fucking handcuffed in the fucking shower, he can’t stop thinking about the sex they had. God, Silver’s never been like that with someone. Flint was…indescribable. He doesn’t know what to make of it, how it felt to be possessed by Flint like that.

He’s not really worried about the whole being kept here thing, not immediately at least. There are some minor concerns, obviously. If Flint thinks he’s keeping him in his bathtub for a whole week, he’s got another think coming.

As for the sex part, well…Silver’s torn on that too. He knows he offered up anything before, during the initial interrogation, but that was so they’d let him go. Now he’s not so certain about it. Sure, it was good with Flint, yes, he’d like to fuck again, but he’s nobody’s pet sex slave, damn it.

For now he’s stuck. He has a few hours to think of a way out of this, and he’s confident he can come up with something eventually.

 *  *  *

In the morning Flint gets an alert from Billy that two of the men have gotten into trouble over at another location, so he gets dressed and leaves without looking in on Silver. He tells Billy to check on him and to turn on the security camera in the bathroom. He had it installed a while back, just in case of emergencies.

Emergencies like keeping a hooker in his shower, apparently.

By the time the situation is taken care of (somebody tried to break into their storehouse and while it could have been unrelated to the alley attack, Flint’s too jumpy at the moment not to think that.) it's mid-morning. He texts Billy again to keep an eye on Silver and keeps his mind busy on the necessary business of the day.

Eleanor wanted another meeting so he goes back to the Sands, which of course reminds him of Silver.

“Whatever’s going on with you and Vane, I need you to fucking handle it.” Eleanor tells him flatly when he appears in her office. “ _Actually_ handle it, not just make noise about handling it and then ignore it.”

Flint raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what I usually say to you?” He doesn’t know where the two of them stand these days and he doesn’t particularly care as long as Eleanor and he can continue to work together. She’s one of the top fences in the business and he doesn’t want to jeopardize that because of Charles fucking Vane. In fact she’s one of the reasons he even agreed to take Vane on as a partner for this job.

Eleanor flips him off casually while she reaches for the whiskey. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m trying to handle it.” Flint takes a seat and accepts the drink she pours him. “I’m looking into it right now.” He thinks of Silver. _What do you know….what are you holding back?_

“So I heard.” Eleanor gives him a look. “You had Billy asking around about a hooker?”

Flint’s eyes narrow. “That’s not exactly supposed to be public knowledge.” 

Eleanor shrugs. “My sources are just very good. So where are you with that?”

Flint shrugs back. “I found him.” He can feel her thinking over her next question, and decides to just answer it. “And I’m getting the information I need out of him.” Flint slings back his whiskey and stands. He’s done with the conversation; he has things he needs to be doing.

“So where is he right now?”

Flint glances over his shoulder at her. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“Because he occasionally works out of here and he’s good for business, if you must know.” Eleanor tells him tartly. “Have you seen those curls?”

“So?”

“So and an acquaintance of mine might be worried about him.” Eleanor’s gaze drifts down to her glass. Her finger taps worriedly against the rim.

“This acquaintance of yours…” Flint waits. He has a suspicion who it is, but Eleanor is occasionally cagey about past relationships and he doesn’t want to push. 

“She’s a friend, all right?” Eleanor won’t meet his eyes. “And if she asked, I know she’s really worried, for whatever that’s worth.”

Flint sighs. Fuck, he’s getting soft. “Tell her he’ll be fine. I intend to question him for a few more days, but he’ll be unharmed at the end of it.”

“Do I have your word on that?”

Flint mockingly crosses his heart and holds up his hand. “You do.”

“Good.”

Flint gives her a nod and heads back to HQ.

 *  *  *

The next time he has another spare moment he checks in again with Billy.

“Well?”

“He definitely pissed in your shower.”

Flint sighs, but really he expected nothing less from Silver. “Anything else?”

“Nope. Apart from that he’s being good as gold.”

"Is that a joke?" Flint frowns. He's not sure he believes Silver's behaving anyway, but he doesn’t have time to delve into it further right now. He’ll deal with Silver later.

"What? No."

“Keep me posted on things.” He hangs up.

 *  *  *

 “What’s he doing now?” He asks Billy early afternoon when he has another free moment.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Billy.”  

Billy sighs. “He’s jerking off.”

That gives Flint pause. “Really?” It’s only been a few hours and that’s what Silver decides to do?

“Do you want me to do something about it?” From Billy’s tone he really doesn’t want anything to do with the situation.

“No, leave it. I want you to check in with Morgan anyway.”

 *  *  *

He’s no longer certain it’s Vane, but if so he needs Silver to come up with something useful. If it’s not Vane, there’s the possibility that it might be a traitor within his own group and he needs to know if that’s the case. If it’s not them, then it’s someone else, and if it’s just someone else, Flint has to cast his net wider and it's like he can’t even think right now.

His temples throb. He needs to sleep. He doesn’t know what he needs.

Billy joins him in the main room. Flint looks up. “Where are we on the schedule?”

“We’re doing fine.” Billy pauses. “What’re you going to do with him?”

“I’m going to keep questioning him.”

Billy sighs. “We could just get it out of him and then dispose of the body afterwards.”

Flint considers this again, but he wants to question Silver himself and if he’s honest, he wants to fuck Silver again.

It had felt electric between them, and yes, maybe it’s simply that he hadn’t had sex in a while. Perhaps that's all it is. All the same Flint knows there is something more there. He _knows_ how good Silver is with his mouth, knows how it felt to fuck him, but what would it take to make Silver completely surrender?

He’s curious about that too.

He goes over his personal security measures. There’s not a lot of anything openly displayed in his apartment. It’s just a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen/living room attached to his office.  His computer is locked, there’s nothing Silver can really use against him and besides, he’s confident he could take Silver if he tried anything physical.

That doesn’t solve the problem of what to do with him if he does actually keep Silver for the week. He’d mostly said that last night just because he had needed to say well, something.

He’ll come up with an actual plan soon. Eventually he’ll need to shower at any rate.

Images of nude Silver in the shower spring to mind, which is just distracting, and frustrating, Flint doesn’t do this. He doesn’t fuck hookers, he doesn’t indulge whenever he wants. He never wants. It’s been a long time since he wanted someone like this. Still, if he wasn’t busy working out who was trying to assassinate him, he might have time to waste on an attractive young man with a skilled mouth and dazzling eyes. Or rather he’d have the time, but let's be honest, he’d probably rather read a book.

Billy’s still waiting for an answer. Flint just shakes his head. “If I want you to handle it, I’ll tell you.” He leaves it there, knowing Billy will obey his command.

He goes over the details of a job once more. The timing has to be just right. He’s going to get everything done in time. Time. It’s all about time. He has enough time, but a week is all he can give Silver on this front.

His head aches worse. He can only go over this mess for so long. Eventually he’s done, and he gives final instructions for tomorrow to Billy. He’s up the stairs to his office and has the door closed before he pauses at the sight of the door leading to his apartment. Normally he’d simply shower and go to bed with a book.

Tonight’s there’s an obstacle.

Flint hesitates and then tries to think of any reason why he should let himself do this.

He never allows himself to do anything of this nature. Sexual means seem as good a way as any of getting out information out of Silver. One thing he’s sure, Silver doesn’t feign his enjoyment in the sexual practices he engages in. If he does, he’s very good at it, and that’s an useful thing to know too.

He remembers what Billy said about what Silver had been doing during the day. Which means he’s got that footage on his computer. Flint glances at the door to his apartment and then goes over to his laptop.

He draws up the day’s videos and clicks through them until he finds what he’s looking for. He thinks about it for a moment with another glance at the bathroom door and then digs out a pair of earbuds out of a drawer. If Silver’s half as noisy when he jerks off as he is during sex, Flint will need them.

Silver’s leaning back against the tile, drumming his fingers on the side of the bath. He stares at the ceiling and around the room, and then, after a moment he starts idly stroking his cock. He spits on his hand and keeps going, taking it slow.

He lets his legs fall wider apart, showing off everything he’s got. It’s almost like he knows that there’s a camera in the room. Flint thinks about that for a moment, and wonders if he does actually know. Maybe Silver spotted it. But the likelihood of Silver being trained enough to spot a camera seems small.

And if he did know he was on display, surely Silver would show off more, advertise it more. Whereas this, whatever it is, is somehow completely natural. That’s the thing about Silver that Flint finds fascinating. He’s a dissembler, a liar, a thief and a hooker, and it all plays together to make this tantalizing blend of mischief and magic that has no right to be this appealing and yet.

And yet, here he is.

Silver’s got his head thrown back, hooking a leg over the side of the tub to arch his back more as he gets himself off. His chest heaves as he works his cock. His lips are parted, his throat is bared. His eyes are closed and then he licks his lips. He speeds up the pace, his knees rocking as he fucks his own fist. He looks unbearable wanton at this angle, in Flint’s shower and then he comes with a groan, his head thrown back so hard, he nearly whacks it into the shower wall.

Flint stifles a groan of his own. This isn’t what he intended to do when he watched this. He just wanted to see what Silver had been up to. And now he just wants to go straight into that bathroom and jerk Silver to his feet, press him up against the wall and fuck him till he makes that face again.

He pulls out the earbuds and tosses them on the desk. Linking his fingers together, he studies the paused figure on the screen. And then he closes his laptop and gets up to pace around the room. He’ll give it ten minutes before he goes in there.

He opens one of his windows and looks out at the city. The night is dark and there’s promise of rain on the wind. He takes a deep breath, drinking it in.

 *  *  *

Flint opens the door to the bathroom. Silver’s leaning back against the tile wall, one knee drawn up in a lazy position. He looks bored and he smells faintly like sex.

Flint raises an eyebrow as he walks over to the toilet. “Looks like you’ve enjoyed yourself today.”

“I’ve been handcuffed in a shower all day, what did you expect me to occupy myself with?” Silver sounds bored too.

He eyes Flint while he pisses. He can’t see the man’s cock but just thinking about it makes him harden slightly and his mouth water. It’s been a long boring day. This is how desperate he is; it’s utterly pathetic.

Flint shakes the last few drops of piss off and turns as he zips up his pants. Silver leans his head back against the wall, gazing up at him. “So?”

“So?” Flint repeats. He washes his hands quickly without meeting his own reflection in the mirror.

“I thought you were going to fuck me.” Silver issues it as a challenge, waiting to see what he’ll say.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Flint says. He doesn’t make a move. Now that he has Silver, he’s at a loss. “Only if you want to.”

That seems to surprise Silver, who just chews on his lip and thinks on it for a bit.

“So if I don’t want to.” He looks askance at Flint who scowls at him like it’s obvious.

“Then we won’t fuck, jesus.” When Silver just looks at him, Flint looks surprised at the notion of anything else.

And that makes Silver laugh in spite of himself. “Are you sure you’re a gangster?” He doesn’t know what to make of this man.

“Yes.” Flint says shortly. “But I’m not a rapist.”

“Understood.” Silver leans back. “You’re really concerned about who’s trying to kill you?”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Flint leans against the sink, arms crossed over his chest.

Silver shrugs again. “In your position yes. In my position, not so many people want to kill me. They mostly just want me to fuck off. That’s the key, being annoying instead of dangerous.”

Flint grins. “You think me dangerous.”

“Yes.” Silver says without overthinking it. “The man you asked me about before…”

“Vane.”

“Why would he want to kill you?” There’s genuine curiosity in Silver’s voice. “What would he have to gain in accomplishing that?”

“Potentially everything and nothing.” Flint hesitates. “We’re in negotiations to do a job together. We don’t trust each other but we both stand to gain a great deal, if we pull it off.” He strokes his beard slightly. “He’d gain a lot more if he waited to kill me after the job, which is what has me puzzled.”

He sighs, resting his hands on the sink. “We’ve had our differences in the past, but I honestly didn’t think he’d try to kill me like that.”

“So who else could it be?”

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? A number of lesser thieves. Vane’s just the most likely at the moment.”

“Not very popular are you?” Silver observes.

“Not so much at the moment, no.” Flint sounds bitterly amused. He watches Silver, who seems to be genuinely considering the matter. Probably Flint has already told him too much.

“So what happens next?”

Flint shrugs his shoulders. “What do you think?”

“You give me my clothes back and let me go?” Silver smiles winningly.

Flint’s smile is non-existent. “Try again.”

“You fuck me till I’m completely fucked out and then let me go?” Silver offers hopefully. He’d settle for that option. Now that they’ve established that Flint won’t fuck him without consent, he’s fine with pushing that particular button to get a rise out of the man.

Flint tilts his head slightly as though considering the matter. Silver shifts slightly, and wincing a little. He’s been cramped in this fucking shower all day.

“Well, to start with.” Flint announces. “I’m going to shower.”

He starts unbuttoning his shirt.

Silver sits up slightly. This is promising at least. “And?”

Flint hangs his shirt up on the back of the door and then removes his shoes and socks, and next his pants. He’s wearing light gray briefs that don’t precisely accentuate his assets but don’t hide them either. Silver lets himself look because he’s still bored and it’s been a really long day. Finally he draws his gaze back up to Flint’s face to see amusement on those usually severe lips.

Silver cocks his head, nodding at those briefs. “Those coming off then?”

“Do you tend to shower with your underwear on?” Flint inquires. He tugs them off in one swift move and tosses them in a hamper in the corner.

Silver smiles at the sight.

And then Flint leans over to turn on the shower. Silver jerks as the water starts.

“Shit, that’s _COLD_ , did you hear me? It’s cold, fucking hell.”

Flint ignores him, letting the water run.

“For fuck’s sake!” Silver shakes his head, trying to inch away from the water .

Flint tests the water and then finally steps in. He’s standing close to Silver, his thighs brush near enough that Silver’s gut trembles with want. He watches Flint duck under the shower, letting the water course down his scalp, down his neck, down the curve of his back to his ass and Silver sucks in a breath at the whole sight.

He thinks about jerking off again. Is that too obvious? Too desperate? Does it even matter at this point? What does it matter if Flint only considers him a horny whore?

Just as his hand settles on his dick, Flint turns around in the shower. Water courses down his chest, running down his well-muscled torso and dancing off his broad, tanned thighs and cock. Silver licks his lips hungrily.

Flint’s a powerful man. And a beautiful one, if Silver allows himself to dare think that, which he does. There’s something appallingly attractive about him, in spite of his menace and reputation. The constant stiff set to his jaw. The freckles on his shoulders. The scar on his hip. Silver finds himself wanting to know about all of these.

Flint eyes his hand on his dick. “Been a long day, eh?”

“You’ve no idea.” Silver mutters. He chews his lip and then...”I could think of something that would make it better.”

“Is that right?” Flint’s just standing there, waiting to see what he’s suggesting.

Silver shifts up on his knees and gazes up at him. It’s not the most graceful position with one hand still handcuffed, but he’s making do. If Flint will just go along with it.

Flint gazes at him and then he inclines his head slightly and Silver takes this as permission to inch forward on his knees and pressing his lips to Flint’s left thigh. 

Flint’s skin is damp and salt-sweet under his mouth. Silver presses another kiss on his inner thigh and then another. It’s slow, and methodical, kissing his way up the curve of Flint’s thigh.

“This is very sweet,” Flint’s voice is anything but amused, “but hardly the sort of talent I expected from you.”

“Just because you don’t appreciate a good kiss doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have it.” Silver says, dropping a kiss on his other thigh without looking up.

When Flint remains silent, Silver looks up then. The man’s just gazing at him with a puzzled furrow in his brow like he can’t make sense of Silver. Silver’s intimately familiar with that look. It usually comes right before someone gives up trying to figure him out and instead just beats the shit out of him.

Flint’s hand settles on his jaw, gripping him not ungently, but still forcefully enough so he can look more fully into Silver’s eyes. “What did you mean by that?”

“I simply meant, there’s no rush is there?” Silver swallows, letting Flint’s fingers feel the motion of it as they hold him. “Is there any reason you don’t want your thighs kissed?” If Flint does have any particular areas he’s not comfortable with having touched, now would be the time to mention them. Silver prefers to savor people’s bodies like they’re a delectable treat, but at the same time he does respect their boundaries.

Flint clears his throat, still staring at him. “No.” He drops his hand from Silver’s throat. “Kiss away.”

Well, with an invitation like that, who is Silver to resist? He wishes he had both hands free for this again as he slides one hand up Flint’s thigh. “This would be easier if I weren’t cuffed.” He points out. If he had two hands free, he’d have Flint eating out of them by now.

“I’m sure it would.” Flint says, unmoved.

Silver sighs and then leans in to lick along Flint’s shaft. He strokes the full length of it, before grasping it lightly in his hand, rubbing gently with his thumb along the vein. The head needs attention and he gives it his full measure, sucking lightly over its silkiness, pressing his tongue along the slit in a teasing rhythm.

Flint’s hips hitch slightly and the hand’s back on his head this time, resting lightly on his curls. Silver moans a little as Flint’s fingers give in and curve through his hair.

He kisses his way slowly down Flint’s cock. Just a breath of a kiss along the shaft, every single inch of the way.

“What’re you doing?”

“Kissing you.” Silver murmurs as he presses another kiss to the hot silky head right hovering before his lips. He grins without looking up at Flint. God, he wants this, and now he’s going to get it.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” Silver says after a moment. He’s not sure Flint would believe him if he said that he _had_ actually wanted to suck him off that day in the alley. Who would believe a story like that anyway from a hooker? They said anything to get your money, that was how it always went.

Flint’s hand slides down the back of his neck, just stroking lightly at his skin and Silver shivers.

He dips his head, sliding Flint back into his mouth. In a way it is easier for him if he just remembers that he’s here as long as Flint’s choosing to keep him. If he just gets Flint off a lot, maybe, just maybe he’ll let Silver go with minimal damage.

He bobs his head, gripping Flint’s thigh with his fingers. His wrist pulls harder at the cuff as he goes deeper, but Silver ignores that. He takes Flint deep into his throat in one slick motion, fucking him with his mouth, long thrusting motions that drag Flint’s shaft all the way down him.

Flint’s fingers grip his hair as he comes, pulling just this side of painful and Silver rocks into his touch as he swallows.

When he finally pulls off again, there’s a sheen of saliva and come on his lips. Silver wipes it away on the back of his hand and sits back, chest heaving with the effort. The water is still running, still warm. Silver’s distantly aware of Flint standing above him.

Finally Flint turns off the shower head and reaches for a towel. Silver watches him dry off and then wrap the towel around his hips.

He just had the man’s cock, felt the spill of him down his throat, and yet Silver can’t help admiring Flint’s hips, beautifully framed by that towel, the scattering of auburn hair across his chest, the firm muscles of his shoulders, and the broad framework of his back. He is an undeniably handsome, attractive man and Silver wishes he’d never clapped eyes on him.

He rests his head in his hand for a moment and then he looks up sharply as he sees Flint bending over him, unlocking the cuff that imprisoned his wrist.

Silver rubs his wrist automatically as it’s freed. Does he imagine the look Flint gives his dick? He likes to think not.

Flint straightens up and tosses him a fresh towel. “Dry yourself off.” He starts to head out of the bathroom.

Silver catches it automatically and gets up, only to trip over the side of the tub.

“Ow.”

Flint turns back to look at him sprawled on the floor.  “Something wrong?”

“Don’t mind me. Just a little numb from being cramped in there all day.” Silver pushes himself upright with a groan. His legs sting pins and needles as he gets back up again.

Moving also just makes him aware of the ache in his shoulder from the position he’s been in, as well as the lean feeling in his stomach. He’s been hungry all day.

He  wraps the towel around him and follows Flint down the hall, passing a bedroom (Silver gives it a quick look. Neat tidy bed, a bookshelf, chair, a dresser, nothing of note, he walks on) and into the kitchen.

Flint’s making himself a cup of tea. Silver eyes that (frankly, he’s in the mood for something stronger) and looks around the room.

“Your clothes are in the laundry, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Flint gets out a carton of milk. “They should be dry soon.”

“Actually I was wondering just what exactly I’d have to do to get fed around here.” Silver scratches at the back of his head. He could give a decent fuck right now, but food would help a lot.

Flint’s brow furrows. “You weren’t fed?”

“Billy gave me something when he first checked in on me,” 

“That was this morning. You’ve been in there all day.” Flint stops himself sharply, and turns to glare at him. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

“I thought it better to put you in a good mood first.” Silver says honestly.

Flint just stares at him. “Do you always think that strategically?”

Silver swallows tightly, aware that he had just let something slip. Now Flint really would just consider him a whore who used to sex to get whatever he wanted. “I simply thought it wiser not to piss you off anymore than necessary.”

“Well, you weren’t wrong in that regard.” Flint murmurs. He looks at the tea he made and then nods at the table. “Sit down.”

Silver sits, unsure of what’s happening now. He watches Flint get out eggs and peppers and half a sausage and butter, setting them on the counter besides the stove.

“What exactly are you doing?” Silver asks after a moment when he still hasn’t got the answer.

“Making you an omelet.” Flint says, cracking an egg.

“Right.” Silver says. “Okay then.”

“Don’t like omelets?” Flint glances over his shoulder.

“It’s not that.” Silver murmurs. “I’ve just never had someone make them for me before.”

Flint shrugs and reaches for his tea. He drinks it while cooking Silver the omelet and he drinks a second cup while Silver eats his omelet sitting at the kitchen table.

Only then does Flint get out a bottle of wine and pour himself a glass before he sits across the table from Silver. And while Silver would still prefer something a little stronger, he’d take anything he can get at this point.

He gets up and rinses his plate in the sink before returning to his seat. “Can I have a glass of that?” He nods at the wine.

Flint cocks his head at him. “I suppose.” He gets up to get another glass and brings it over. Standing beside Silver he fills the glass and hands it to him.

Silver’s fingertips brush his as he accepts the glass. The touch isn’t intentional for once and he looks away quickly. He takes a gulp of wine too soon and chokes a little.

“Can’t handle your alcohol?” Flint inquires, taking a sip of his own wine.

“I’m fine.” Silver scowls, wiping at his chin. When he looks up he sees Flint just studying him across the table. “What?”

“What am I supposed to do with you?” Flint murmurs.

“Do you mean in general, or for the night or…” Silver trails off. He doesn’t want to get more specific than that in case the answer leans towards the unpleasant side.

“I mean, I suppose you’ll have some objection if I cuff you in the shower again.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Silver starts and Flint just holds up his hand to stall him.

“If I left you unchained tonight, what would you do?”

“What do you intend to do with me?” Silver shoots back.

“I already told you.” Flint takes another sip of wine. “I’m going to keep you until I’m sure I’ve got everything you know out of you.”

“By fucking me whenever you feel like it.” Silver clarifies.

Flint shrugs his shoulders. “You said you didn’t respond well under duress.” He leans back in his chair, one hand still clasping his wine glass. “I can always resort to violence later.”

Silver’s cock shouldn’t respond to that sort of threat; it shouldn’t be a fucking turn-on, but it is.

“For a week?” He manages to ask finally.

“A week seems a reasonable amount of time to ascertain whether you know anything of use or not.” Flint concedes.

“So you’ll let me go after a week.”

Flint gazes deeply at his wine and then just as Silver’s nearly given up hope of getting a response, he nods.

“But in the meantime we fuck.”

Flint’s smile is dangerous. “If I feel like it.”

“And what about when I feel like it?” Silver downs his wine and stands. He walks over to Flint and lets his towel drop to the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silver gives Flint a little show.
> 
> Or this chapter is short and entirely porny, mostly just a jumpstart to get this story going again in my head.

Flint watches Silver walk around the table to him. “You did give me the impression you were good at begging.” He’s _not_ already hardening merely from the look Silver’s giving him. That would be embarrassing and Flint is not a man easily embarrassed.

Silver cocks his head at him, placing a hand on the table. “You want me to beg you to fuck me?” It sounds delightfully dubious on his lips and the amused query in his voice half makes Flint want to chuckle and deny the whole thing. It would be easy enough to do. 

Instead he raises his wine to his lips and Silver simply reaches out and takes the glass from him. He brings it to his own lips and finishes Flint’s wine, letting Flint watch the subtle swallowing motion of his throat as he does. Then he sets the glass down and swings his leg over Flint’s thigh, straddling his lap. Their cocks rest together, Silver's bare against Flint's covered length, and Flint suppresses a moan. He’s _had_ Silver. He shouldn’t be dying to have him again. No man is that good. Flint doesn't yearn for sex, or another man's body against his own, and definitely not this man. 

Silver grinds his crotch slowly against Flint’s, not saying a word as he does. His chest is so close enough all Flint has to do is lean into his body, or pull Silver against his own. He manages to do neither for now. In spite of the way Silver's nipples tempt him. 

“Thought you were going to strip for a minute there.” Flint says at last when the silence has grown too long and if he doesn’t speak, he’’ll groan aloud from the feeling of Silver’s cock rubbing against his.

“I’m a hooker, not a stripper.” Silver points out. “In case you’ve forgotten.”

“I trust you could just as easily put your mind to one as the other.” Flint murmurs, his gaze dancing somewhere along Silver’s bare shoulder. He’s so… _naked._ And even thought Flint’s been aware that Silver’s been naked for the entire day, and only just recently had that towel around his waist before he discarded it, it’s one thing to know that and another to see it before his own eyes. Silver's curls drift gently around his face. His entire frame feels slender but sturdy against Flint's body, and Flint can easily imagine a hundred positions they'd fit together in that instance. And then, again there are SIlver's nipples. Flint wants to taste them endlessly upon his tongue, licking and sucking and biting until Silver's truly begging.

He licks his lips, wishing he had more wine. It feels like some sort of surrender to get up and pour more though so he stays where he is.

“Well, in that case.” Silver slides off his lap, ignoring Flint’s faint noise of protest. “Do you have some music?”

“Or we could just fuck.” Flint rests his hands on his thighs, watching Silver as he glances around the apartment. The stripper comment had come out of nowhere. He doesn’t need Silver to strip for him. He’s already naked for fuck’s sake, and in spite of the blowjob earlier in the shower, Flint’s cock is already aching again.

“You have no finesse,” Silver shakes his head teasingly. “No aptitude for drawing things out longer and simply taking your time.”

Flint just looks at him. He’s been accused of many things in his life, but this is a new one.

Silver puts his hands on his hips. “So music?”

Flint sighs. “Over there.” He has a stereo in the corner, and a row of cds lined up neatly on a shelf. His vinyl collection is safely at the house with Miranda, but he needed some music to get through the nights here.

Silver peruses his selection, still naked. Flint gives in to pouring himself more wine and sits back, wondering what the hell he’s going to come up with. And while he’s certainly enjoying the view, this is not exactly how stripping is supposed to go. Silver’s ass is delightfully on display as he crouches on the carpet, his head cocked to one side, surveying Flint’s cd collection. Flint’s eyes travel down the cleft of his ass, and below where he can just make out the shape of Silver’s sac and his cock between his legs, just a velvet shadow waiting for Flint's mouth to taste.

Flint suppresses a sigh and takes another sip of wine. “You’re supposed to be wearing clothes if you’re going to take them off.” He points out.

“Oh, I’ll put something on.” Silver assures him. “Pour me some more wine as well.”

At last he takes a cd off the shelf, chuckles at it, and then puts it in the player. Next he looks around the room thoughtfully. Finally he grabs the towel from where he left it on the floor, wrapping it back around his hips. Flint had left a plaid shirt hanging over the back of the sofa. Silver scoops it up and pulls it on, buttoning it all the way up to the collar and tying the ends around his stomach.

Flint’s just watching him incredulously. “You look ridiculous.”

“And you wanna bang me, so what does that make you?” Silver says breezily back.

His last move is to grab a rubber band from the kitchen counter and pull his hair back into a wavy ponytail with tendrils still escaping and dangling around his face. Flint’s stomach does a quick set of flip-flops. There’s no reason for _why_ his cock curls with lust at the things Silver does with his hair, at the things _Flint_ wants to do with his hair.

“Where’s my wine?” Silver looks at him.

Flint reaches for the bottle and pours him some.

 Silver comes over to the table and takes a quick sip, smiling at him. “Now, sit back down and get ready for it.”

Flint shrugs and sits down. He takes another sip of wine and waits. He has a feeling he’s never going to be ready for this, whatever it is.

Silver takes another sip of wine, sets the glass down and goes back over to the stereo. With a quick mischievous smirk over his shoulder at Flint, he presses play.

Flint raises his eyebrows at the first beats start. Silver’s chosen _Hits of the 80’s_ , which frankly Flint doesn’t want to dwell on why he still has that, and of all the songs he decided on ‘Let’s Hear It For The Boy.’

It’s a fucking ridiculous choice, but Flint leaves his criticism there cause now Silver’s truly moving. Maybe he’s not a stripper, but he still knows how to dance and Flint’s tongue is dry in his mouth, as he watches. Silver’s dancing is slow, shimmying across the carpet towards him, just a relaxed, slow grind of a dance and then he gets closer, sliding one way and then another, and then he flicks the towel off and throws it at Flint.

If it’s possible Flint’s mouth gets even drier in his mouth. Now Silver’s just wearing Flint’s shirt, the tied ends hanging just over his crotch and Flint’s dick swells in his jeans. If he hadn’t already wanted to fuck Silver, he would now.

Now he just wants it even more.

Silver does a little sway of his hips, rolling them back and forth like the sway of the sea as he turns, and now Flint’s presented with the sight of his shirt hanging down over that svelte ass, and this is just unfair. He can see what Silver meant about drawing it out, and right then and there he resolves to retaliate later. Flint's not sure how yet, but it’ll come to him. If there’s one thing Flint excels at, it’s planning revenge.

Silver shakes his ass, practically grinding the air in slow motion as he moves and Flint exhales slowly, doing his best not to moan aloud at the sight of his body moving.

He imagines sliding his hands up Silver’s hips underneath the folds of Flint’s shirt, teaisng his nipples, making Silver arch up into his touch. 

Slowly Silver draws closer, swinging his hips back over Flint’s hips and lowering himself to grind slowly against Flint’s crotch. He sways lightly, tilting his head this way, smiling at Flint through his eyelashes, mouthing the words as he moves.  _Because what he does he does so welll, makes me wanna yell..._

Part of Flint still wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation but the rest of him is too aroused.

Silver turns around again so that his back is to Flint, grinding his ass teasingly against Flint's crotch. "How exactly did you envision this stripper fantasy going?"

“Not in enough detail.” Flint licks his lips. "Am I allowed to touch you?"

"At this particular club?" Silver wrinkles his nose as he considers. "No. But you can command." He presses his crotch meaningfully against Flint's. “What do you want me to do?”

"Fucking move." Flint says breathlessly. He’s dying here. “And I want to touch you.” It’s not fair. Silver’s right there in front of him. He should be allowed to touch him.

“Not yet.” Silver says, rolling his ass fully on Flint’s dick and Flint’s fists tighten, as he has to restrain himself from reaching for him and thrusting up between Silver’s cheeks. He grips the back of the chair with both hands, holding himself back.

“How much do you want to fuck me?” Silver asks casually.

“I thought you were the one supposed to be begging me.” Flint manages.

“You can make me beg later.” Silver says and Flint laughs, startling himself.

Silver presses against fully his cock again and Flint's breath hitches. “Can I touch you now?”

Silver looks over his shoulder at him, seeing the look in his eyes, the flush in his cheeks.

He smiles. “Yeah, you can touch me.”

With a groan, Flint scoops him up in his arms, laying Silver flat on the table. He rips the front of his own fucking shirt open in one motion and Silver just laughs up at him. Oh, Flint’s going to make him fucking pay for that. He _liked_ that shirt. He gets his own jeans open, pressing his dick between Silver’s eager cheeks.

“Fuck, yes.” Silver pants. “Lube?”

“Fucking hell.” Flint groans, resting on his forearms. He can feel the heat from Silver’s body and it’s calling him, he wants to sink straight into him but he pulls himself back up. He stuffs his dick back in his briefs with a wince and zips up his jeans, going into the bedroom to find the lube. When he comes back, Silver’s still stretched out on the kitchen table, stroking his dick lazily.

“Enough of that.”

The command of his voice rings out and Silver obeys, dropping his hand to the table. He lies there, watching as Flint returns to between his legs, nudging his thighs wider. Flint smears lube on his fingers and presses two fingers inside immediately. Oh god, he’s dying for it.

Silver hisses faintly, grabbing the side of the table. “Fuck.”

“Oh, you’re ready for it, aren’t you?” Flint murmurs. “So ready for my cock, you’d have let me stick in you just like we were, completely unslicked.” Silver had been the one to mention it, but if Flint had pressed the matter, he knows Silver would have gone along with it. It makes his cock throb even harder.

Silver moans, screwing his eyes shut, not admitting it. Flint curls his fingers and makes him moan louder.

“So tight.” Flint whispers. “How are you so fucking tight.”

“Contrary to whatever you’ve been imagining. I have not been fucked by the entirety of London.” Silver mutters, still without opening his eyes.

Flint’s laugh startles him into opening them at last and he looks up to see Flint gazing down at him with amusement in his eyes.

“Strangely, that’s not what I’ve been picturing.” Flint admits, still dragging his fingers inside Silver in lazy circles that make Silver’s toes curl against the arousal surging upside him. “And I suppose you’re rather picky about who you take to bed.”

“You’ve no idea.” Silver grunts as Flint’s fingers stroke his prostate. He grips the table tighter. “So you’re gonna fuck me or what?

“Does this constitute as you begging?” Flint sounds almost conversational at this juncture. Now that he’s back in control he’s relatively calmer. He removes his fingers, covers them with a fresh coat of lube and slides them back in with embarrassing ease.

Silver’s hips arch towards him in helpless desire. “Depends.”

“On?” Flint raises an eyebrow, curious now.

“On how mouthy you like your begging.” Silver grins up at him, his eyelashes fluttering gently. He’s so pretty it makes Flint’s eyes hurt to look at him. No one has a right to be this beautiful, and this...alluring. Whatever Silver possesses, it draws Flint in like a moth to a flame. 

Flint grins back at him. “Oh, I like it mouthy.”

“Then come on and fuck me.” Silver moans. “Fuck me right here on the table, slide that thick cock of yours deep inside me, so deep I’ll feel it for fucking days.” _Long after we’re done here, I’ll still fucking feel you in me,_ he thinks but he doesn’t say that part aloud.

“Come on.” He squeezes needily around Flint’s fingers, begging him with mouth and body alike. “You’re aching for it, you know you want to give it to me, fill me with that delicious cock.”

“Jesus.” Flint groans. “Shoulda known you’d follow through on the mouthy bit.” He keeps moving his fingers in Silver, while fumbling with drawing his dick with his other hand.

Silver scoots closer towards him, sitting up on the table. “Let me?”

Flint’s fingers still for a moment, and then he moves them nice and slow, watching Silver’s face.

Silver swallows under the heady weight of Flint’s gaze. He tries to remember how his own hands even work as he leans down to unzip Flint’s jeans and draw him out. He’s proud his hands don’t shake at least. He feels unsteady, like he’s had too much to drink, or he’s been dancing for hours, like something could just whisk him off his feet right now with the greatest of ease. Except for the part where he’s already off his feet, he’s already planted firmly on the kitchen table, two broad fingers deep in his ass, fucking him apart with steady strokes.

He slides a hand down Flint’s cock, thinking turnabout is fair play and all that.

Flint muffles a groan as he leans forward, leans into Silver’s fucking grasp. “Steady on.”

“Thought you were going to fuck me.” Silver says innocently. “I’m just making sure you’re hard and ready and primed.”

Flint nearly chokes on his own laughter as his free hand catches Silver’s wrist, stilling its motion. “Oh, I’m fucking primed all right.” He pulls his fingers out of Silver and Silver gasps a little at the sudden lack.

“Lie back.” Flint commands and Silver does, flat on the table, gazing up at him.

Flint’s hands reach for his hips, lifting him, positioning himself, and then he presses just the head in, teasing him slowly around his rim, and Silver groans in frustration.

“Come on and fuck me.” He’s nearly hoarse with wanting. “What are you waiting for?”

“What do you know about Vane’s organization?” Flint murmurs, sliding the head of his cock further inside Silver.

Silver’s entire body freezes and he looks at him dead on. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Flint inquires, sliding another half inch inside him. He knows how to take his fucking time when it counts, thank you very much.

Silver bites his lip, fingers pressed hard against the tabletop. “Yes.” He manages at last.

“How did you get the job to approach me in the bar that day?” Flint shifts his hips slightly and Silver exhales, his eyes nearly blown with pleasure and tension.

“Someone texted me. They had seen me in the bar before, thought I’d be right for the job.” Silver groaned again as Flint slide another inch deeper.

Flint frowns. “They picked you especially to appeal to me?” For some reason that thought bothers him. And why shouldn’t it? He’s here, fucking Silver. If they had wanted to get a spy into his organization, it had almost worked. Except even if they had planned something like this they couldn’t have possibly known that he would do this, that he would actually take Silver home and keep him there for a week. Nobody could have foreseen that happening, not even Flint himself.

Silver shrugs. “I appeal to a lot of men. I’m not special in that regard.”

For some reason that line of thought pisses Flint off even more. Silver _should_ think he’s special, should hold his own value more dearly here. He grips his fingers more firmly around Silver’s backside, pulls out and then thrusts into him again.

Silver cries out, legs tightening around Flint’s waist, his arms raised above his head, gripping the table edge. His own dick’s pressed hard against his belly, red and throbbing and waiting to be touched. Silver doesn’t touch himself and Flint knows he’s waiting for him to do it. He doesn’t make a move.

Flint continues to fuck into him mercilessly. Sweat drips down his chest, dripping onto Silver’s bare skin and mingling with his own sweat gathering there. Flint leans down and licks a strip of it, taking the salt of their skin on his tongue. Silver gasps at the slide of his tongue over his chest. And then Flint keeps thrusting, letting his body set the rhythm, falling into the wordless pattern of fucking that’s so natural and familiar that it take a moment to recognize Silver’s harsh gasping noise as one of pleasure.

“I’m going to...” Silver’s back arches upward, his dick jerking helplessly between their bodies and then he’s coming, without Flint laying a single fucking hand on him, shooting over both of them.

Silver’s body clenches and releases and Flint groans, reaching down to tug him down to the edge of the table, sitting upright as Flint comes thickly inside him, filling him with wave after wave. His hands move up to cup Silver’s face, tasting his mouth once more as Flint’s cock finally stills.

Silver exhales shakily. “Fuck.”

Flint can feel the little tremors of his body all the way down to his cock, like a slow helpless shudder of surrender, but whether it's his surrender or Silver's, he doesn't know. 

He rests his forehead against Silver’s for a moment, and then he pulls out of him slowly.

Silver leans back on the table as he does, gazing up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

“You’re getting come on my kitchen floor.” Flint tells him. It should be disgusting, but it’s not. He watches Silver grin and spread his legs wider, letting it continue to seep out of him.

“Am I making a mess?”

Flint pins him to the kitchen table with a growl, one hand between Silver’s legs, the other on his hair, tugging his hair back.

“You know damn well you are.”

Silver’s eyes are laughing at him, and Flint’s fingers slide through the mess dripping out of him in one easy motion, bringing them up to Silver’s lips.

Silver licks at his fingers without hesitation and Flint’s hand tightens in his curls at the sight. He doesn’t know how or why Silver has this effect on him, but he can’t deny it any longer. Whatever Silver knows, Flint’s going to enjoy getting it out of him.


End file.
